


for the hope of it all

by piginawig



Series: isn't it just so pretty to think... [2]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Frank is alive AU, M/M, Teenage Losers Club (IT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginawig/pseuds/piginawig
Summary: Your back, beneath the sun / wishin' I could write my name on it
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: isn't it just so pretty to think... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910539
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	for the hope of it all

**Author's Note:**

> You might recognize this as a chapter of another fic - I'm reposting each chapter as its own oneshot.

Eddie’s bare back pressed against the warm rock, his legs splayed out in front of him and his wet shorts sticking to him, slowly drying in the sun. Two of his best friends sat nearby, and he could see the four others splashing around in the quarry. The hot sun felt warm and comfortable against his skin, and he enjoyed basking in it, if only his eyes weren’t so easily drawn to –

“What are you staring at?”

Eddie blinked, then sputtered.

He’d been staring at the pale skin of Richie’s back, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He glared at Stan, who had spoken and now sat on a nearby rock, smirking.

“I was just –“ He paused, racking his brain. “You’re gonna burn, Rich. You’re so fuckin’ pasty, you need some more sunscreen.”

He saw Stan’s narrowed eyes out of the corner of his own but he ignored it, looking at Richie, who now had his attention on Eddie.

“Alright, Mom,” Richie laughed, holding his hand out for the bottle of sunscreen Bev had brought for all of them. Eddie handed it over and Richie waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna put it on for me?”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. Stan was laughing, and Richie was already popping open the bottle to pour sunscreen onto his palm.

“What about me, Eddie?” Stan asked, clearly not done with his bullshit. “Aren’t you worried about me burning? Or do you just save all your attention for Richie?”

The words brought a blush to Eddie’s cheeks. He expected a gross comment from Richie any moment now, but instead Richie was staring at the sunscreen in his hands, cheeks bright red.

Had he been blushing before? Was it the heat? Or did he really know Eddie was staring at him? Or was he embarrassed that Eddie was being a mother hen?

“Whatever, Stan,” he finally said, and Stan laughed some more. He then announced he was getting back in the water, _in case you two want to be alone._

Eddie sputtered again, staring after Stan and desperately wanting to see Richie’s reaction but feeling too scared to look.

“Hey,” Richie said, his voice a little softer. Eddie finally looked back at him, the glasses slipping down his nose, the rosiness of his cheeks. “Seriously though, can you put it on for me? I can’t exactly reach my back.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Richie held his hand out, the one with the sunscreen cupped in the palm, and Eddie took the hint. Hoping his own blush wasn’t too evident, he held one hand out and used the other to scoop the white goop from Richie’s hand onto his own. Eddie’s stomach filled with butterflies as their hands touched, and then went into overdrive as Richie murmured, “hold on, there’s still some more,” and grabbed Eddie’s hand in his own, softly scraping his palm against Eddie’s fingers.

Richie turned around quickly after that, and Eddie huffed a relieved breath before rubbing his hands together and getting to work. Richie’s skin was warm under his hands, and at the first touch he shivered, sending Eddie into a nervous, quiet chuckle.

“Are my hands cold?” He asked, knowing they weren’t.

“Yeah,” Richie croaked.

“Sorry.”

“’s fine,” Richie said, then cleared his throat. “Um, hey. I have to – um – it’s my mom’s birthday soon, and I need to get her a gift. Would you wanna, like… go shopping with me? At the mall? Like, tomorrow.”

The words were rushed and said in a voice Eddie had only heard from Richie a few times before, the voice that made him think maybe, _maybe_ …

“Yeah,” he answered, a little breathless. He was rubbing circles into Richie’s back, the sunscreen no longer visible beneath his hands.

The last time he’d heard Richie use that voice had been just a few weeks before. It was a nervous, soft tone, every word sounding like it was followed by a question mark. The first time had been when they were 13, in the living room of Eddie’s house. It’d been a difficult day for Eddie; his mom had been on his back since she’d learned he’d tried out for the track team. Going on about his asthma, even as his dad reminded her the doctor said he didn’t _have_ asthma. She ignored Frank the way she usually did and continued, trying to guilt him with _what if you get hurt, Eddie? I couldn’t bear to see you like that, would you want to do that to your mother?_ His father had butted in again, with a loud _Sonia, come on_ , that immediately escalated into Sonia exploding at Frank and giving Eddie a chance to disappear.

He’d called Richie and invited him over, wanting a distraction, but ended up just ranting about his mother to his friend anyway. Richie listened like he always did, looking at Eddie like he was the most important thing on the planet, in that way that made his head spin. He hadn’t known what it meant back then, the head spinning and the butterflies, but they came in full force when Richie had lowered his voice and put a hand on Eddie’s arm.

“Don’t listen to her, okay? You’re the strongest person I know, you’re gonna make the track team and be the best fucking runner this town has ever seen. You – you’re great, Eds. She’s not – she can’t take away how great you are.”

The next time Richie had used it was over a year later. Eddie was sitting against the outside wall of the school gymnasium, knees tucked up to his chest, even though he knew his mother would shriek at him for wrinkling his nice pants. Richie had found him and sat right next to him, and for a moment they had just listened to the sound of music drifting from the gym. Richie’s hair was gelled back, like his mom had tried to make him look nicer than usual, and he looked dorky but still cute, somehow.

By that point, Eddie was starting to understand why he thought about how cute Richie was.

The other Losers had been on him all night, trying to convince him that Greta Bowie definitely had a crush on him, and he should totally ask her to dance. Eddie hadn’t been able to come up with any excuse to not dance with her, so he’d gone up to her and politely asked if she’d like to dance.

She giggled and said no, then turned to her friends and giggled some more.

He couldn’t help but feel hurt at the rejection, even though he hadn’t wanted to dance with her in the first place.

Eddie turned his head to find Richie already looking at him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” Richie had said, and just the way he sounded, so sincere yet so nervous, had Eddie’s heart pounding. “I’ve told you before, you’re great. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” And then he’d reached over and grabbed Eddie’s hand.

“Thanks, Rich.”

They’d sat there through three full songs, not talking, their hands clasped together, until Bev came out looking for them.

It was another eight or nine months before he heard it again. Just a few weeks ago, the start of summer, Eddie had been working on the car he was fixing up with his dad. It was going to be his the minute he turned 16. Richie had been sitting on a lawn chair making conversation about what they were going to do for the summer, when Eddie had groaned in frustration and used an oily hand to push his hair back off his forehead. It had gotten longer than it ever had been, almost falling into his eyes and curling around the ears. His mom was on his ass about cutting it, and he planned to do so soon, and then as soon as he said, “My fucking hair is too fucking long,” and Richie had used that voice to answer, “I think it looks really good on you,” he changed his mind. He’d wait to cut it, and even then he’d only get it trimmed.

It was almost bizarre to hear that sweet sound come out of Richie’s mouth, when usually he was being obnoxiously loud and telling gross sex jokes, but Eddie loved it. It made him feel like they were the only two people in the world, like there were things that Richie said that were only for him to hear, no one else.

*

It was early afternoon when Eddie met Richie outside the mall the next day.

“Do you have any idea of what you want to get her?”

“Uh, no,” Richie had said awkwardly, then he brought out a booming voice to say, “Right this way, Edward my good sir.”

They spent two hours wandering random stores, Richie vetoing every suggestion Eddie made. They didn’t have many places to look; the Derry mall was pretty small, and they’d been through pretty much every store.

“You need to pick something, Rich, or it’ll be too late and your mother won’t get a birthday gift.” They were sitting across from each other in the food court, sharing a large fry between them. “When is it, anyway? Maybe we can come back another day, or I could get my dad to drive us to Bangor –“

“Her birthday’s in February,” Richie blurted.

Eddie stared at him.

Richie smiled nervously. “Let’s go outside, behind the mall.”

Eddie, confused as fuck, followed him. They walked silently outside, until they were behind the large building, the walls blocking them from being able to see the parking lot.

“So. Your mom’s birthday is in February.”

Richie looked at the ground, his cheeks beginning to turn pink. He finally nodded.

“Why did you lie?” Eddie asked.

“I just – “ Richie swallowed. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “We spend time together every day.”

“Yeah but…” Richie huffed, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to – you know. Just us.”

_Just us._

The voice was back. Eddie tried to ignore his racing heart and the knots in his stomach.

“If I asked you to hang out at the quarry or my house or the arcade or the movies I thought – I thought the others might try to join and I...” He stopped, huffing a breath and finally meeting Eddie’s eyes.

“I want to hang out with you too,” Eddie said, rescuing Richie from his nervous, scattered speech. Then he added, “ _Just us_.”

Richie’s smile was blinding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed, smiling back. Richie took his hands out of his pockets and Eddie took the chance to grab one, letting their fingers intertwine.

Richie laughed, sounding almost stunned. “Cool.”

It was awkward, and Eddie didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t think of any time he’d been happier.

And then Richie used his free hand to push a strand of hair out of Eddie’s eyes, his touch gentle. “You look so cute like this.” Richie bit his lip, drawing Eddie’s eye and making him realize just how badly he wanted Richie to kiss him.

“I didn’t cut it, ‘cause you said you liked it,” Eddie confessed quietly. His heart skipped when Richie took a step even closer.

Richie was smiling as he started to lean in, and Eddie heard him whisper, almost to himself, “ _so fucking cute_ ,” before their lips met. It was chaste, both of them well aware of what would happen if anyone saw them kissing, and Eddie burned with how much he wanted _more_.

Richie seemed to be on the same page.

“Wanna come to my house?”

Eddie nodded happily, even as their hands disconnected so they could begin their walk home.

He had no idea what was going to happen, how they were possibly going to have a relationship in a close-minded town, but he hoped for the best, for stolen kisses in bathrooms and hands held under tables, for more than just the summer. He hoped their friends would be okay with it, that his mother wouldn’t lose her mind, that they’d make it out of Derry and into a more accepting world. He hoped for so much.

But in the moment, he put his hopes aside, walking next to Richie with their hands brushing between them, and he smiled.


End file.
